


Working Through the Unimaginable

by dearevanheatherton



Series: You Left Me Defenseless [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander is sad, Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Eliza is sad, F/M, Gen, Historically Inaccurate, Jamilton - Freeform, M/M, Set directly after 'Stay Alive (Reprise), Thomas is pining, Thomas is sad, Unrequited Love (for now), obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearevanheatherton/pseuds/dearevanheatherton
Summary: No matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he wanted to scream and cry, he couldn’t. He couldn’t believe it. His son, his precious, brilliant son, dead.Thomas comforts Alexander about Philip's death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Although this is not my first fanfiction, this is my first in the Hamilton fandom. I honestly don't think this is very good, but you guys are the judge of that, not me!  
> This is unedited. The edited version should be up tomorrow or Wednesday
> 
> A few key things:
> 
> -Historically, Jefferson was elected and inaugurated before Philip's death  
> -I am using the descriptions from the musical, so in case you were wondering, yes, Jefferson is African-American. With the afro and everything. Picture the orginal broadway cast for all characters.  
> -For slaves, picture... Asian people? I dunno. I don't think I put anything about slavery in this fic.  
> -In this fic, Alexander was reappointed as Secretary Treasurer when Jefferson was elected.  
> -I know that it is not possible to make it from New York to the Capital in about an hour. For this fic, pretend that the capital and all that political stuff was still in New York for now.
> 
> If you see anything else that bothered you, tell me.

“No!” Alexander could hear Eliza screaming for Philip, begging him to count with her again. She sounded hysterical, screaming and crying for her son to come back to her.

He thought for a second. Should he be doing that? But, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he wanted to scream and cry, he couldn’t. He couldn’t believe it. His son, his precious, brilliant son, dead. This was so much different from when his mother had died. He hadn’t felt empty, like he had lost his entire reason for living, when she died.

But that’s how it felt with Philip. It felt like he couldn’t breath. It felt empty. And God, it scared him.

He had never felt like this before. Like he had lost his reason for life. Not when his mother died, not when John died, not when Eliza had found out about Maria. Even though they had had two more children in the time since the Reynolds Pamphlet had come out to the public, it had never been the same between the two of them, and now, it never would be. Because Eliza didn’t have the emptiness of losing Philip. She had the anger, the ferocity, and the grief that showed on her face. Meanwhile, Alexander had the emptiness and the inward grief. He didn’t know how to act.

He never really had when it came to his oldest son, he mused. He was unexplored territory, something unknown. The Alexander everyone else knew had always fallen apart when it came to Philip. The only thing he could ever really focus on around him was protecting his son, and he had failed at that. He should have insisted that Philip back out of the duel, should have told him that protecting his honor was nothing compared to Philip’s life.

He stood there, still frozen, still holding his (dead) son’s cold hand in his. He vaguely realized that sometime in the last 3 minutes, Angelica had walked into the room. She was holding Eliza, tears and cries coming from the both of them. He looked at them, trying to understand how they showed this much sheer emotion, but he couldn’t. As much as he wanted to show it, he couldn’t help feeling that this mourning needed to stay private. That it should be something that only he and Philip should experience. 

So he let go of Philip’s hand and walked out of the room.

 

 

 

 

He walked into the office, hoping that work would fill this emptiness a bit. He was just waiting for someone to ask why he was here. It wasn’t long before he was stopped by someone. Unfortunately, that someone happened to be James Madison.

“The hell, Hamilton? Why are you here?”

“I still work here, don’t I? Or was I fired…” He attempted to smile and put some snark in his voice, but even he knew it looked pitiful.

“Hamilton, you should be home, with your wife and your children,” Madison said, shifting uncomfortably. That was what made Alexander snap.

“If I want to come to my damned motherfucking office, I will go to my damned office, and no one can say a fucking word about it.” Alexander knew his face was red, and that his accent, suppressed from years in America, was starting to become obvious. 

“Whatever, Hamilton. Always knew you were incapable of caring about your family more than your work.” And with that, James Madison was off, leaving Alexander with his face red and his eyes teary.

 

 

 

 

“Hamilton showed up today.” James entered Thomas’s office. Thomas looked up, quill in hand.

“Why does that surprise you, James? Ever since he became Secretary of Treasury again, he’s been working nearly non-stop,” Jefferson said. God, why was he having to worry about Hamilton? He thought that, maybe, just maybe, becoming president would get him further away from Hamilton, but then he asked for his former position as Secretary of Treasury back. Now, Thomas did not like Hamilton much, but he did reluctantly admit that the man was brilliant in his own rights.

“You haven’t heard?” James looked at him, surprised.

“Heard what?”

“Hamilton’s eldest son, Philip, died this morning. Kid got into a duel with Eacker’s son,” James explained. Thomas’ look of surprise and worry was unexpected. “What’s wrong?”

“You said, his eldest son, correct? And he showed up to work?” Thomas asked, trying to work out what was happening.

“Yep. Honestly, I’m kind of worried about the man. He looked so empty when I saw him…” But Thomas didn’t hear the rest. He was already out the door, heading for Hamilton’s office.

 

 

 

 

Alexander sat at his desk, quill in hand, trying to think of something to write, anything, but he couldn’t. Nothing would come out. He screamed in frustration, and all of a sudden, thoughts barraged into his mind. Philip’s death, Angelica and Eliza’s cries, the way that he couldn’t show his emotions in front of them...but none of those compared to his guilt. ‘I gave him my guns. What kind of father am I? I’m so sorry Philip, please. I’m sorry…” The thoughts echoed in his head, torturing him. Why hadn’t he just told Philip what he had been thinking, that his legacy wasn’t worth anything compared to his son’s life.

It seemed that lately, all he had been doing was making mistakes and losing people because of it.

Alexander bowed his head, breathing deeply. He hadn’t allowed himself tears yet, but as he sat in an empty room behind a desk with thousands of pages of writing on it, he began to cry. God, it hurt. He hadn’t ever felt this much sheer pain. Not when his mother died, not when he and his brother were separated, not Nevis, not even Maria and Eliza. Nothing compared to this endless abyss of pain.

 

 

 

Thomas walked quietly to the newly re-appointed Secretary Treasurer´s office. Ever since Alexander had endorsed Thomas for president, he rehired him, feeling compelled to make it up to him because even Thomas knew when to repay his debts. So he had conferred with the Senate, and when they approved, Thomas appointed Alexander his old position. When Alexander had asked why, Thomas had simply replied that it got boring around here sometimes. Although that technically was true, the main reason was that Thomas was absolutely, ridiculously, pathetically in love with the short, dark haired brat. Not that anyone could know that, lest he wanted to be hung.

He reached the door of Alexander´s small office, and instead of knocking, walked right in. He knew Hamilton wouldn´t open the door. When he opened the door, pushing it open quietly, he saw a sight that nearly made him start gaping.

Alexander Hamilton sat at his desk, head down, sobbing into his hands. His rumpled outfit had blood stains on it. ´From Philip´s blood,´ Thomas recalled.

He stood there a few more moments because Alexander hadn´t noticed him yet, and he wanted to see him without a facade up. 

After a more few seconds, he coughed lightly, causing a startled Hamilton to fall back in his chair.

“What the-what do you want, Jefferson?” Hamilton growled, wiping tears from his eyes unsuccessfully.

“I heard about your son. I wanted to-” Hamilton cut off his explanation, his face already changing from grief to anger.

“Yeah? Come to mock me about it? Tell me it’s my fault he’s dead?” Alexander spat the cruel words, searching for a fight, needing a fight. He needed to feel alive, and Jefferson was the only one who could ever get him fired up. He needed someone to help him forget his guilt, and Thomas Jefferson was the only one who could do that for him.

Meanwhile, Thomas was staring at Hamilton’s glare, shocked.

“Do you hate me so much as to think I’m capable of doing such a monstrosity to a man whose eldest son just died? I came here to offer my condolences, to see how you were coping, Hamilton, but if you want to fight, be my guest!” He finished his rant seething, before seeing the flash of satisfaction on Hamilton’s face, and he realized that he had just given him exactly what he wanted. So, he calmed his face, and although originally coming here to comfort the man (‘you still want to’, his mind thought fleetingly) he couldn’t help but feel a glimpse of satisfaction at the look on Hamilton’s face when he realized he wasn’t going to be getting what he wanted.

As he averted his eyes from where they were on the wall to Hamilton’s, hunched over figure, he couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity and regret for the broken man before him. He was about to apologize for his attitude, as he too knew what it felt like to lose a child, when Alexander spoke again.

“I-I’m sorry, I just-I can’t believe- I just can’t…” And then he did something he never thought he’d do in front of the President of the United States, much less Thomas Jefferson. He cried. He felt hot tears run down his face, ruining the image, the facade, that always seemed to crack when he was in Jefferson’s presence. He had always felt more comfortable around Jefferson, even more so than any of the Schuyler Sisters, despite their differences. He was the one person who could debate with him all day and not come out losing. And, although he would never admit it aloud, he would begrudgingly admit that Jefferson was most definitely one of the most brilliant men he could think of, behind only Benjamin Franklin and his own self. Jefferson was a genius in his own right, despite his incredibly stupid ideas for the country. He was the only person in Alexander’s 44 years of life that could challenge his mind. So it was no surprise that despite everything he tried, he was also the only person Alexander could let his facade fall in front of.

Meanwhile, Thomas looked on in shock as he saw the strongest man he had ever known curl into himself sobbing, He had never seen this much of the real Alexander, Sure he had seen glimpses, possibly more than even Elizabeth Hamilton herself had, bit he had never seen anything close to this much emotion in a man. (He thought back to his own children’s deaths. Had he shown this much grief?) Much less Alexander Hamilton, someone well known for his rivalry with Jefferson.

“Hamilton, please, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten angry. You’re in mourning, you have every right to be upset.”

“How is it okay that I’m grieving?” Hamilton whispered, hot, angry tears running down his face. Thomas’ heart clenched painfully as the man he loved broke in front of him. “ I have no right to be mourning his death. After all, it’s my fucking fault, It’s all my fault…” With that, Alexander dissolved into another bout of tears. 

“What do you mean it's your fault? It’s not like you shot him!” Jefferson exclaimed, his bemusement obvious. Hamilton looked into his eyes, and Thomas felt his heart break as he saw those big, brown eyes that were usually so beautiful and brimming with life now filled with pain and regret.

“I gave him my guns! I gave him fucking advice! Hell, he was only dueling because he was defending my honor, like I was some damsel in distress instead of his damned father!” Hamilton screamed like a dying man. Like a man who wished he could die. And God, that scared Thomas more than damned near anything. The only thing he feared more than Alexander’s death was the death of his own remaining daughters.

“Hamilton, you couldn’t have stopped him. He was a young man dueling with someone who disparaged his father’s legacy, and he wasn’t going let anything stop him. That’s what young men do,” he berated gently, hoping that for once, Alex would just listen to him.

“I-I should have told him that my legacy wasn’t worth his life. It’s not worth his life, it was never worth it. All he wanted to do was make me proud. He thought I wasn’t proud of him, and this was the way he thought he would get it. I was a horrible father, I am a horrible father…” He whispered, silent tears still streaming down his face. He looked up at Thomas with pleading eyes, as if begging him to deny him again. He didn’t disappoint.

“Alexander,” Thomas started, oblivious to the look of shock thrown his way at the name, “what were you going to do? He was a fully grown man. He wasn’t going to listen if you told him not to, and he didn’t have to either. If he had let Eacker continue on with the beratement of your name, he wouldn’t have had anything to live up to!”

“But that’s the thing! He didn’t need my name to live up to! He could have done anything he wanted! You got somewhere in life, and I don’t have a damned clue who your father is,” Alexander spat angrily. Thomas just sighed in response, knowing he was just trying to rile him up. 

¨Yes, well, I just got lucky then, didn't I? Even so, having a father with no legacy known to the people is better than having a father with a bad one,” Thomas said gently, not falling into Alexander´s need for an argument. 

Meanwhile, Alexander was just wondering why Jefferson was being so kind to him. Why was Jefferson treating him like a friend, someone he didn’t argue with all the time, when he was the exact opposite of that to him? 

“But he was my oldest son. It wasn’t his job to protect my legacy. It was mine. It was only one person’s job, and it certainly wasn’t his,” Alexander whispered brokenly, all of the light sucked out of his eyes from guilt and sadness. 

Again, Thomas’ heart clenched painfully, and he remembered the promise he had made to his dying wife nearly 20 years ago. ‘I shall never marry again,’ he had sworn. ‘Well,’ he thought bitterly, ‘that’s true indeed. You don’t have to worry about me marrying again, Martha, because it is impossible to marry the one person who holds my heart closest.’

Thomas sighed, saddened by the memories of his wife and the current situation with Alexander. 

Alexander looked up at Thomas, hearing his sigh. Wondering why he wasn’t saying anything, Alexander queried, “How do you know so much about this stuff? Comforting me about my son’s death?” 

“Well, I’ve lost three of my own. 1 boy and 2 girls.” Alexander stared at him, shocked.

“Oh, God, I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” he stuttered. Thomas just smiled tiredly.

“Well, not many do. While my wife was alive, she insisted that my private life stay just that-private.”

“When did she die?” Alexander asked gently. Thomas forced a sad smile onto his face.

“She died in 1782. Right after the birth of my daughter Lucy. Lucy died in ‘85,” Thomas said, blinking back the tears at memories of his beautiful Martha and his precious Lucy.

“I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t sound like much, coming from me, but I am.” When Alexander finished, Thomas smiled a kind smile, and Alexander forgot why he had ever hated this man who had been through so much, yet still managed to run a country.

“No, no, of course it means something. Thank you.” Thomas smiled encouragingly at Alexander.

“Thanks too. I mean, I can’t imagine what Eliza would say if she heard this conversation,” Alexander said gratefully, missing Thomas’ flinch at Eliza’s name. 

“Yes, well, she won't, so that's a relief. For everyone, probably.” Thomas tried to keep the scorn out of his voice at the mention of Eliza, and it seemed he succeeded, for Hamilton didn't notice, and if he did, he didn't say anything. Jefferson was simultaneously grateful and disappointed. Grateful because he didn’t have to explain to Hamilton why he was scornful towards her, disappointed because he was reminded that Eliza was still in the picture, and Alexander had been doing everything to win back her heart since the Reynolds Pamphlet, and well, long story short, it had been working like a charm. Even the thought of Eliza brought a bitter taste to Thomas’ mouth.

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile, Eliza was being pried from Philip’s bedside, still screaming and crying for him. 

“He’s my baby, please, he’s my baby,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. Angelica grabbed her arm from behind and held her close, murmuring sweet things to ca

“He’s dead Angelica. My baby is dead…” Eliza mumbled disorientedly.

“I know, love. I know. It’s gonna be okay, you’ll get through this. We’ll get through it. I love you so much, it will be okay dear.”

“How?” Eliza whispered brokenly. She had never experienced this sheer pain before.

“I’ll help you, and you still have Alexander and the other children,” Angelica said softly, petting her little sister’s hair softly.

“How will Alexander help? He hardly knows how to handle his own emotions, much less mine and our children’s?” Eliza spat, angered by the mention of her husband. The least he could do was be here, but he was probably at work. That’s all he seemed to do. Work, work, work. He never just appreciated his family. He was never satisfied.

“Well… actually, you’re quite right. The man doesn’t even remember to feed himself.” When Eliza didn’t respond to that, Angelica just took her by the shoulder and said, “Let’s go home, love.”

 

 

 

 

“Well, I should be going.” Alexander smiled at Thomas, and he hoped that Alex didn’t notice the joy in his eyes and the thumping in his chest when he saw those beautiful brown eyes light up with joy meant for him. ‘I did that. That was me’ Thomas thought happily.

“You probably should,” Thomas said regretfully. Alexander nodded and started walking out, but he stopped in the middle of the doorway and turned around, looking at Jefferson seriously.

“Thomas,” Alexander started, and God did Jefferson forget how to breathe when Alexander spoke his name. “Thank you. For everything. I… hope this can be the beginning of a new friendship.”

“Of course,” Thomas spoke softly, his handsome face lighting up at the prospect of a friendship with this man. Even if it wasn’t what he really wanted.

Alexander nodded once more and started walking again, but before he got two steps in, Thomas spoke again.

“Oh, and Alexander?” Hamilton stopped and turned his head. He raised his eyebrow in question.

“Don’t bother coming to work this week. You have paid leave. Spend time with your children.”

“But I have to work. I-” Alexander was cut off.

“No. If you are going to come to the office, make it only because you came here to have lunch with the president. Understood?” Thomas said with a slight smile on his face. Alexander grinned and nodded.

“Yessir, Mr. President.”

“Now go home to your children, Alexander.”

“Okay, okay.” But before he finally left, he turned around once more and said, “Again, thank you so much.”  
Thomas simply smiled and said, “It was no problem. Really.”  
And if Thomas went up to his youngest daughter that night and held her tight, well, no one had to know.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!
> 
> Leave comments and kudos!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
